


Aragorn is a Lil Bitch

by orphan_account



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Aragorn would do this tho, Cockblocking, Confessions, Fluff and Angst, M/M, and mild fluff, he's a lil bitch lesbehonest, idk what this is I wrote it ages ago so, nothing happens, real mild agst, thank Aragorn for that tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-09 15:42:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10415460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Rated Teen cos I swear in the tags. Eomer and Legolas start getting it on, Aragorn fucks it up. Honestly idk I can't even tell if this is bad or not.





	

Eomer knew very, very little about elves. The men of Rohan spoke of rumours about them, and although the rumours were fascinating he was wise enough not to take them for the truth - he was a tactician and a leader of sorts and that demanded some level of intelligence and a lack of gullibility. So no, technically he placed no faith in the rumours. But with an elf in his midst, he couldn't help himself. From the moment he'd first held a lethal weapon to his head, to fighting alongside him at the Deep, Eomer had been studying Legolas Greenleaf for answers. He'd thought he was being discreet.

The cloaked figure turned and dropped his hood, bowing discreetly, "my Lord Eomer."

"I did not mean to disturb you Prince of Mirkwood, forgive me."                                                                                                                              

A small smile played across his lips as he cast his gaze back upon the Rohan countryside, "there is nothing to forgive; the night is still and my thoughts are loud. You are a welcome distraction - as you have been the past few nights."

"Again you must forgive me - I do not mean to stare-"

"You do. You are not alone in this; any non-elf who is unfamiliar with my kin is prone to staring. I would ask of you why, but I suspect it is out of… curiosity."

Somehow Eomer had though the elf’s tone would be mocking, but it stayed light and genuine.

"I can only confirm your suspicions on my part, but I too would assume the same can be said of any other. Elves are somewhat mythical amongst men; legends of your power circulates many a conversation but little is actually known. Although thus far it must be said that all the rumours I can recall have been confirmed by your actions."

"Oh? And what do your men say of Elves?"

"That you are skilled beyond measure and wield strength and stamina that cannot be measured in your physical mass. That you can go for days without laying to rest or eating the slightest morsel of a meal. And that your looks and aura have the power to enchant all those around you to distraction and beyond if you choose it."

He felt Legolas smile even with his back to him. Gingerly he took a step forwards, continuing his rudely spoken speech, "It's also been said that you never sleep or eat or drink, and that you cannot die, and you would the same power as that of a wizard. I find these too farfetched to hold any truth."

"You are right in some respects I suppose," the elf somewhat laughed, "our lithe figures do nothing to betray the force we carry, and although it seems we have no need for sleep, we do but it is not sleep as you would know it: more akin to meditation I suppose. We do need to eat and drink as you do, but food is of less importance. And we can die, like all things can, but only if we are slain. Age alone has not yet killed an elf."

"I would have thought at some great age, like the dwarves, elves would fade from the world of the living."

"Perhaps they might, but no such elf has reached that age to my knowledge."

"Well your knowledge is greater than mine, and beyond what I have told you I know precious little else - obviously other than apparently you also have a royal hierarchy."

"That is only for my kin, the elves of Mirkwood. Those of Rivendell and Lothlorien hold different attitudes. But in Mirkwood, my father is the king and I am his prince and heir. Much like yourself; your uncle is the king and in the wake of his death you shall sit in the throne and rule Rohan in his stead."

"That was a fate meant for my cousin,” he added darkly, his cousin now some weeks dead and buried in his grave.

"You do not seem the type to abandon your duty."

"No, but as any man, I feel fear and doubt my abilities. I will rule if I must but I lack faith in myself."

Legolas spun quite suddenly, a slender arm coming to rest firmly on Eomer's shoulder, "you are a man that wields both inner strength and sympathy for your people. These are the makings of a fine ruler."

"That may be so, forgive me for struggling to believe you, but even if that is all true: I lack one thing crucial for any king." He shrugged away the touch of the elf, his own tangled emotions keeping him from accepting his kindness and support.

"May I inquire as to what you lack, my lord."

With a heavy sigh designed to fight back his building tears of frustration he turned to face the elf front on, "I suppose to an ethereal entity like yourself, you have no care for the troubles of men - and perhaps if my secret didn't carry such weight for my own worth then I'd share it."

Legolas stepped a little closer, frowning at the upset clouding Eomer's features, and drew his brows closer when Eomer responded by taking two steps back. "I am not ethereal - not like the Lady Galadriel of Lothlorien or Lord Elrond of Rivendell. My power is limited to that of any average elf." He paused offering a soft smile and the palms of his hands as a peace offering, "if it weighs so heavily on you then it would be better shared, and I will neither judge you nor tell another soul if that is what you wish of me."

Legolas watched Eomer's eyes run over the body language expressing the elf's willingness to help, as if he was considering whether or not he could trust him. "I've never told another man, not any other being for that matter."

"And you don't have to tell me, but I think you would feel better for it and I also think that you want to."

"And you won't betray my trust?"

"I swear by my title and the stars I was birthed under that I will not."

The words 'very well' were lost in a weary sigh, a sign he'd given in, "I could not breed Rohan an heir."

"You mean to say you are incapable of producing a child?"

"No, no; not as far as I know at least. I mean, I have no wish to lie with a woman. I prefer... men."

Legolas half rolled his eyes and that soft smile overcame his scarlet lips, "I forgot that men's customs only approved of relationships that concerned one man and one woman."

It was Eomer's turn to frown now, "elves do not uphold the same traditions?"

That hand rested once more on his shoulder, giving a firm squeeze, "not at all. Eventually elves will pair, be it one of male characteristics with another, or one of female characteristics with one similar too. The idea that there exists only two identities that align with particulars is also not a concept we have ever adhered to - although more than often two bonded elves will be able to reproduce."

"Well for men it's frowned upon greatly - especially for a man as significant as I am. A man in the public eye."

"I understand that, but I take it that this lack of understanding and acceptance hasn't stopped you from the practice."

"No."

Legolas's slender fingers lifted Eomer's bearded chin so that their eyes met, "you needn't be ashamed in my presence, my lord Eomer. I think no less of you for who you choose to lie with." His hand fell away from the future king of Rohan and he began to walk back toward the door that separated from the balcony from the room in which his brothers in arms slept. A short moment before his hand reached the door knob Eomer grabbed Legolas's bracer and dragged him against the wall in front of him, chest to chest with mere inches between their lips. Legolas made no move to stop him, and his expression was impossible to read.

"The other night in the hall, when you were drinking with the dwarf, you wore only your silken shirt. When we rode from The Deep to Isengard, I thought you were pretty. That night I couldn't take my eyes off you." He started unlacing the bracer from the wrist he was holding against the wall.

"You weren't following me out of curiosity after all." The leather strip fell with a quiet thud to the floor, and the elven cloak and matching bracer soon followed.

"I don't suppose you elves feel the cold?"

"Not in the same way you do, my lord."

"Heavens Legolas," the elf's tunic dropped to the ground and Eomer briefly focused on running his hands over the thin silk covering Legolas's cool skin, "just call me Eomer."

"Just kiss me then."

He happily complied, his lips meeting Legolas's with ease - at first passionate and heated, until it became slower. He wanted to taste the elf, to savour the experience for as long as possible. They parted to draw breath, both panting hard with hands still absently exploring heaving torsos and arms that shook with a rush of adrenaline.

"Your lips are sweeter than that of the other men I've tasted."

"And yours are bitter by the standards of elves but intoxicating all the same."

Eomer's fingers skirted the hem of the silk shirt, coyly staring into the deep blue of Legolas's eyes, "may I?" He gave a knowing smile and began to nod when the door swung open. Legolas remained against the wall in a state of undress, apparently unbothered by the sudden interruption. Eomer on the other hand pushed away from him, coughing and stumbling toward the steps. The intruder, Aragorn, could see the situation for what it was and offered Legolas an apologetic smile.

The stars shone brightly overhead, and other than Eomer's sudden coughing fit the night was silent around them.

"I came to ask if there was any change you could sense Legolas, but I assume there is none."

"You assume correctly, and you should be resting friend. Enjoy this peace while it lasts.”

He got a nod from Aragorn, who cast a sideways glance at Eomer (apparently now pretending to not even be there), “and you enjoy… that. Goodnight Legolas.”

“Goodnight.”

**Author's Note:**

> Cheers luvs! First of a few shorts imam dump here seeing as I should do that once in a while. Kudos and Comments appreciated xx


End file.
